Eternal Sonata
by The Greatest of These is Love
Summary: Harry Potter and Sirius Black were sent to Azkaban after the Department of Mysteries. There, his sanity and control over his magic were stripped from him. Can he ever be sane again? Does he even want to? HarryxFleur Delacour
1. Azkaban

**Hello and welcome to Eternal Sonata. This will be my fourth fanfic on the site. For those of you know that I only have three published, there was an OC/Gabrielle Delacour fic that I deleted soon after beginning rescue. This story will be very different from my others. The protagonists of Rescue and Makai were fairly heroic and did the right thing willingly because it was the right thing to do. In this story you will be introduced to a reluctant and somewhat insane Harry. I hope you enjoy it. Now, on with the show.**

Azkaban

Hidden away in the mists of the North Sea, there is a titanic structure, a prison, designed to house the most dangerous and insane criminals known to the magical world. In the dark corridors of this hellhole, inhuman custodians, Dementors, glide silently in front of equally silent cells. No inmate taunts his jailor, cries out or begs. Even if they were released from this prison they would not be free. The Dementors, using their ability to suck joy and life from their victims, had damned the inmates to the inescapable dungeons of their mind. Insanity was common if not the rule. Only one had ever ever defied it. Only one escaped both prisons, but he returned. He had been brought back with another prisoner to the halls of Azkaban. This one was a little different, this newcomer.

He had never stopped screaming.

-Two Year Ago, Wizengamot-

"Mr. Potter, you have been charged with aiding and abetting the known fugitive Sirius Black, service to the Dark Lord Voldemort, trespassing on Ministry Property, destruction of the same and the murder of ministry employees. How do you plead."

"Not guilty to all save the trespassing."

The judge nodded and spoke to loudly, "Let the record show that the accused has admitted to trespassing on Ministry property. Prosecution, call your fist witness."

"Thank you your honor," he said. The man was of middling height with a sort of greasy look to him. He had little hair and what he did have used in a poor attempt to hide his lack. He was obviously well off, sporting robes that put many of the Wizengamot themselves to shame. But what made Harry uneasy was just how confident he seemed.

"We would like to call Mr. Harry Potter to the sound."

Amid the shocked mutterings and stares, the poorly dressed and skinny teenager rose and self consciously made his way to the stand.

"Mr. Potter, is it true that you broke into the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes sir, it is, but I-"

"Is it also true that you did the same to come to the aid one Sirius Black, a known murderer and fugitive? Your godfather, I believe."

"Yes, sir, but he didn't-"

"How did you come to know that this person was in need of your aid?" he asked with a cold grin. Harry began to feel sick. He knew exactly where this was going. He hadn't come for a trial. He was at a sentencing.

"I...received a vision, sir. I saw-"

"You know," he said, cutting off Harry as soon as he could, "I have heard many stories about you, my boy, but never that you were a seer. In fact I had heard that Divination wasn't your cup of tea."

The entire crowd chuckled with the notable exceptions of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had not been allowed to preside over the case because of his personal attachment to the boy. It killed him to see this mockery of a trial.

"I-I'm n-not, sir. I got the vision from...somewhere else," he stammered out.

Turning towards his victim with visible glee he asked him with mock interest, "Well then, where did this vision come from?"

And there it was. This would be the final nail in the coffin.

"From Voldemort, sir. We are linked."

That was the end. The prosecution gave up the floor, but it was no good. The Ministry had provided Harry's lawyer. Somehow they had had Harry's guardianship transfer to Sirius and then confiscated his money and property because it would be an aid to a fugitive. Harry's lawyer was probably Fudge's lacky.

The verdict was unanimous.

Life in Azkaban prison.

-Present-

"Come on, Screamer, today's the big day." The leering voice of Azkaban's supervisor came through his door. "Today we get to see your godfather kissed. Oh, don't worry, love, you'll be right behind him. Dementor's get a little excited sometimes. No one will mind. Hell, I might just get bonus for it. Come on, up you go."

He didn't get a response. Nobody ever did. Screamer just screamed like he always did. It was never words, just a ghastly wail that never let up. For some reason he just wouldn't except that he'd lost. Nothing left to fight for. Well, in a little bit Screamer would stop screaming forever.

"Come on, mover your arse! I've not got all day."

With a little...gentle prodding with a billy club, the dirty figure staggered to his feet and out the door behind the warden. He didn't know what was going on. His mind was just a foggy haze of fragments of memories.

_Cedric... Murderer... Death Eater... Sirius... Traitor_

_ Ron... Voldemort... Bastard... Hermione... _

_ Vermin.._

He knew he was innocent. He knew that he didn't do what they said he did, but...that was it. He didn't know who he was anymore or what he was supposed to have done. They called him Screamer. That much he knew after two years. They had mentioned his godfather he thought, but that didn't mean anything. He hadn't seen anyone but Dementors and the warden since he arrived. He lost what identity he had soon enough. He could have let everything go. He thought that was what everyone else had done, but for some reason he remembered he was innocent. He fought them so hard for that. He fought with fiber of his being to remember his innocence, that this was unjust and that someday it would be set right. That was it. The struggle to keep that alive took everything he had. It tortured him. They tortured him for it. His mind constantly being ripped in too and the pain was unbearable.

So he screamed.

And now they wanted him to move and walk for the first time in years. He went along with it, but the screaming didn't stop.

"Here we are, kiddo. Time to have some fun."

They were standing in an open courtyard in the center of the complex. There was no sunlight because the prison was always surrounded by thick grey fog. In the middle of the area was a man tide to a pole with a gag in his mouth. He was covered in dirt and his hair easily covered his whole face. Screamer didn't recognize him.

"Well you get a nice treat. You get to see what the Kiss does to that poor bugger before they take a crack at yourself. I hope you enjoy it, cause it's the last thing you'll ever get to see."

Slowly, the black robed figures glided in from the entire facility, circling around the prisoner, entirely focused on him. It was a black maelstrom of soul-sucking destruction. In a sick kind of way it was beautiful to see the hundreds of black figures begin to fly in circles around the victim.

Then Screamer noticed it.

The pain.

It was gone. His mind wasn't being attacked by his jailors. He stunned by the lack of agony and for an instant he didn't know what to do. The haze lifted slightly and something was trying to slip through.

An image, too wavy to make out...

Wait...a...man. It was a man.

He looked familiar...like an old memory...

A name...what was his name? What...

S...Sir...Sirius! It was Sirius! His...his...his Godfather!

Hadn't the man said something...

His godfather was going to be Kissed.

Sirius was his his Godfather...so...

Sirius was being kissed...

Within this revelation, he felt a surge of joy and hope that he finally remembered something...and something noticed.

A lone Dementor broke off from the group, noticing the happy thoughts. It rushed over to Screamer, knocking the Warden to the floor and began sucking away what it could. Still in a frenzy from having been offered the total soul of Sirius Black, it did not hold back on this prisoner. He began devouring his thoughts and very soul. Then it hit something that it probably shouldn't have.

Magic is a powerful force subjugated by the will of magic users. There is a small instinctual part of the user that tells them how to make magic obey them instead of the other way around.

The Dementor destroyed it.

With all limits being destroyed, Harry's magic swelled and flew out in a rush in response to rage, anguish and terror he was feeling. It shout out through every cell of his body as he screamed out louder than he ever had before.

"SIRIUS!"

The black vortex of Dementors was surrounded by enough vortex; one of magic and power unlimited by human direction. It was acting on its own will to protect the source of the magic, Harry.

The Dementors began to fill up like balloons and exploding with magical power. While that was happening, Harry/Screamer was enveloped in a cocoon of blue light that soon shot out to Sirius to protect them. Searching through Harry's fragmented mind, they found a place of healing and safety.

And they were gone.

-Hogwarts Infirmary-

Madam Pomfrey was just finishing her summer inventory and heading back towards her nursing station when she felt rather than heard an explosion in the direction she was going. Her medical instincts kicking in, she ran towards the source of the explosion preparing her wand to hep out as she could. Just before she arrived, she was joined by an equally worried Albus Dumbledore.

She sighed in relief, "Albus! Thank Merlin, do you know what's going on?"

"No," he replied in that ever calm tone, "But I intend to find out."

As they reached the infirmary, they instantly noticed that large wooden door was hanging by one hinge. Just inside, they could see utter destruction with shredded and destroyed bits of everything under the sun strewn about.

Dumbledore got in first and his eyes widened in shock at what he saw.

"Poppy, I think we have some work to do."

Fearing the worst, Poppy ran in and stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the sight in front of her. Tears came to her eyes as she looked at Dumbledore.

"You bet we do, but I've never been happier to do it."

Sleeping in his usual bed, was Harry Potter, with his Godfather right beside him, holding the boy in a tight embrace.

**Well here's the first chapter. I know it's short but I liked where it stopped. The next one will be longer. And be out sometime next week, most likely. Please drop a review and tell me what you think so far.**


	2. Revelation

**Well, here's the next installment. A number of you guys were wondering if Dumbledore knew about the trial and conviction. This is an obvious yes. If you don't know why, reread the last chapter. I at the least implied it. Then without further ado, chapter 2.**

Revelations

When Sirius awoke, the first thing that struck him was blinding, agonizing pain. Literally blinding because the morning sun was in his eyes and he hadn't seen daylight in a few years. In shock, he yanked his bed covers over his eyes so quickly that the edges of it knocked over a flower pot that was unfortunate enough to be too close. The resulting crash brought some attention.

"Oh, Albus, I think he's awake!" said a voice that was vaguely familiar.

"Quite right, Poppy. Your powers of observation have not deserted you yet. Though I believe that the rather beautiful sunrise is giving him some trouble."

That voice was unmistakable. No one ever talked to Albus Dumbledore and forgot how that old man sounded. He was instantly relieved, if confused, to hear the Headmaster's voice. Mercifully, Madam Pomfrey pulled some blinds across the windows and Sirius was freed from torture. Slowly, he tried to sit up and found that he barely had the strength and nearly collapsed against the headboard when he finished sitting up. Looking around him, he saw he was in the Hogwarts infirmary, but it was...well, trashed.

"Headmaster," he said groggily. "Why does the infirmary look like the great hall after our graduation party?"

"Oh, Sirius," the old man chuckled. "It is relieving that you still maintain your sense of humor, but I was rather hoping that you could tell me. Do you remember anything of what happened in your escape from Azkaban?"

A puzzled expression appeared on his scruffy features.

"I-I can't...really remember much. I think I was about to...dear Merlin I was about to be Kissed!"

He paused for a moment, mental strain evident in his voice and face.

"Wait, the-the guard said something about somebody watching...I can't remember. And then-then the Dementors started swarming around me. It was black everywhere and so cold. But then I heard a shout. No, more of a scream. It sounded like my name but...I'm not really sure. Then there was this light. It was just there suddenly, everywhere. And it was...thick if that's possible. It seemed to fill up the Dementors like big balloons until they burst. Then, it surrounded me completely and I woke up here."

Dumbledore, who had been sitting with a calm, interested expression, let out a heavy breath and said, "Then it is as I feared. Harry has-"

"Harry?" Sirius half asked, half shouted. "Harry was the one there? The warden was going to make my godson watch as my soul was sucked out. And he probably got stuck there with the light and the Dementors. I've got to go help him. I'll-"

"Sit there and let the Headmaster speak," said Madame Pomfrey. "Harry is fine for the moment."

Sirius shot his eyes over to Dumbledore, waiting for confirmation and received a slow nod.

"Poppy, could leave us for a moment? There are some things I must discuss privately with Mr. Black."

The old Nurse nodded dutifully and quietly left the room. As soon as she left, Dumbledore began.

"I must ask that you not interrupt me as I have quite a lot to say and most of your questions will be answered. Is that understood?"

A nod

"Alright. Young Harry escaped that night with you. In fact, he saved you. That light you saw was, if I am correct, pure, unfettered magic acting to protect its source. Namely, Harry. Magic is not supposed to behave like that. There is something innate in every human being that controls magic and subjugates it to one's mind. Somehow, this part of Harry was destroyed and his magic was unleashed. It aided Harry because he is the source of that magic. Without him, that magic would cease to exist. It saved you as well, though, which is puzzling. He should not have had enough control to force it to save you. If he could already do that his possibilities are almost limitless..." Dumbledore trailed off. His brow furrowed as he became lost in his own thoughts.

In the silence, Sirius' mind worked like mad to absorb what he had been told.

Harry had saved him. That was simple to understand.

Harry's magic did it and defeated Dementors. Harry had already done that before. Harder to accept but still possible.

Harry had lost control of his magic and still managed to do everything he had done. That needed some processing. How could he lose control of his magic? That part of his mind would be so innate, so instinctive, that it had to be buried deep within his own thoughts and personali-

"Dumbledore, are you telling me that Harry's mind has been destroyed?"

Seemingly startled at the intrusion on his thoughts and that Sirius had reached such a conclusion so quickly, he simply blinked and nodded.

"That is a good way to put it. Most of what made him who he was is destroyed. Most of his memories are simply gone. If his connection with someone was very strong, he may have a few memories or a vague impression of them, but for all intents and purposes he is a blank slate with the most potential of any wizard currently living."

"Excuse me Dumbledore but could you please tell me when insanity and potential became synonymous?" His sounded bitter, angry as he dealt with everything.

Dumbledore took the rebuke with a sad smile and a slightly lowered head.

"Sirius, I am sure that you are aware that most people think me to be...unhinged in some regard. Yet they also accept that I am one of the most powerful wizards of our age. How do you think that came to be? It is hardly hereditary. You have never heard of any other Dumbledores before."

"Are you telling me that you're powerful because you're out of your mind?" said a still angry Sirius, but he far too exhausted to put much vehemence into his statements.

"I am telling you, my friend, that there is still hope for your godson. He will never be the same again, but he has a chance to make himself into anything he wishes, if he is strong enough. I am here to ask you if you are strong enough to help him."

Eyes downcast and brooding like those of a man who thought all was lost, Sirius said, "Professor, I'd go to the ends of the earth for him. I love him like my own son, but how could I help? I'm barely strong enough to talk to you, let alone help a boy rebuild his life."

Then Dumbledore chuckled. It wasn't dry, resigned or humorless. It was relief that he knew he had an answer.

"Oh, Sirius, I don't need you to _do_ anything. Harry loves you. He had enough sheer will and love for you that he forced wild magic to save your life. Even I could not have managed something like that when I had...my incident. Harry needs you to be there for him. Many will try to reject the person that he becomes, demanding a return of his former identity, which is impossible. Will you still love him when he has his new identity?"

Silence reigned. He wanted to say yes. The answer seemed plain, but he truly loved Harry, the boy he had come to know for so short a time. He was gone. He was never coming back, but if Dumbledore was right, Harry still needed him.

"Yes, yes I'll do it. For James and for Harry."

Suddenly he was exhausted. All the energy he had regained was spent and he began to slump back into his bed and his eyelids droop. The last thing he saw was the Headmaster smiling as he said, "I am proud of you Sirius. Get your rest and when you are ready, I will take you to your godson. Sleep well."

-Break-

Once again, Sirius woke with the sun in his face, but not blinding him this time. He stretched out his arms and back to relieve some stiffness and after several pops and cracks, was sitting up just as his Poppy came in.

"Oh, Mr. Black, so you've finally decided to join the land of the living. The Headmaster will be down in a moment. He is most anxious to speak with you again."

Sure enough, the aged Professor Dumbledore arrived within moments, various breakfast platters and implements floating around his head as he walked.

"Ah, Sirius, I had hoped you would wake soon. Would you care to join me for breakfast? I have always been fond of muggle pancakes, but a partner makes the meal far more enjoyable."

"Albus, I don-"

Dumbledore raised his hand.

"I think that if you take a moment you will realise that you are quite famished."

As if on cue, Sirius' stomach rumbled...loudly..

A table appeared out of nowhere next to Sirius and the trays and silverware floated gently into place.

The food disappeared in minutes as Sirius wolfed it all down, pausing only for a breath or a drink of orange juice. Finally, finished, he leaned back and looked at his host thankfully.

"You'd think I hadn't eaten in a week."

"Eight days actually," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "But that is not what you wish to speak with me about, is it?"

That did not even get a verbal answer.

"Very well. Harry is in the Room of Requirement. I put him there because it is perhaps the only room in Hogwarts that is capable of handling all of the magic that swirls around him. Currently, he is in a magic induced coma. His powers are protecting him, making sure his body is healthy and keeping out of harm's way. If we leave him alone, it is quite likely that he will remain that way forever and be content. I want you to go and convince him that he should fight his magic for the right to live in the real world."

"Why should I? He'll never be hurt. He'll be safe, probably happy for the rest of his life. What's the point?"

"The point is that he deserves the truth. No matter how terrible it is, the truth is always the right choice.

-Room of Requirement-

Luckily, pacing back and forth was necessary to enter the Room of Requirement, so Sirius didn't look quite as nervous as he was. Dumbledore had said that Harry's magic would most likely let him approach because it had saved him before.

Then the door opened.

Sirius was greeted with one the strangest sites he had ever seen. The room looked like a surreal duplication of the living in the Potter house from Godric's Hollow. Everything was larger, the colors were brighter and everything else appeared the way an infant might have interpreted reality. The magic must have pulled it from his memories. On the elongated sofa at the back of the room, Harry was sleeping with stuffed animals his family had given him. Despite the situation, Sirius grinned when he saw the black dog plushy.

As he walked towards the couch, he could feel a tenseness in the air as the magic grudgingly allowed him through the room. The oxygen itself seemed heavier and there was a thrumming in the air of sheer power all around the sleeping teenager. Harry was still dressed in his prison clothes, still torn and frayed, though cleaner than they probably ought to have been. But he looked different than the last time Sirius had seen him. After two years in prison, his face seemed worn, thinner than before with deeper lines. His scar had faded even more from being deprived of sunlight and his black hair was past his shoulders with a matching, gangly black beard that only a teenager could grow. Despite all of these changes, something else seemed off about the picture. Harry was eerily still. He was breathing and laying down, but something just looked off.

Sirius sat down on the edge of a cushion and gently touched Harry's shoulder.

"Come on, Prongslet. Time to wake up."

For a few moments, nothing happened, but then his breathing lost the steady rhythm of sleep and his eyes fluttered open as if the action was straining him. A horse and dry voice whispered, "Sirius?"

"It's me, pup," he said with a small smile.

"We got out?" Harry asked, obviously exhausted.

"We did. You got us out of there just in the nick of time."

"'S good. I was just having this dream. I was in this house with mum and dad and you and Remus. But, that can't be real, right? Felt real." His voice was quiet and slow, like at the edge of sleep, but there was a sadness to it, the kind you feel when you're not sure you want the dream to end.

Sirius' smile turned sad as he answered, "No, it's not real. I wish it was. I really do, but it wasn't."

They didn't say anything for a while. Neither what should come next and silence seemed good as they thought. Then Harry had a question.

"It's my magic isn't it? That got us out and made that dream? It was too real to be normal."

The older man just nodded and let the silence continue, thinking about what he was going to say. Dumbledore had told him a lot that Harry needed to know, but he needed to know how much Harry knew.

"Harry, how much do you remember? Not just about the escape, but...everything."

Harry looked at him strangely. "What do you mean? I remember the trial and being put in Azkaban."

"Yes, yes, but what about before that?" Sirius asked with an urgency that Harry didn't understand.

"Well, I...Ron...Hermione...Dumbledore...Remus.." he trailed off, not understanding what was wrong with him. He was scared. He could remember some people, a few fragments of memories, but that was it.

"Sirius...I don't remember anything." His eyes were wider and a cold sweat had broken out on his face.

His godfather, realising how distressed he was, grabbed Harry's hand tightly.

"Harry...Dumbledore told me that..something like this would happen. I have a lot I need to talk to you about..."

And so, with much effort, Sirius told Harry what Dumbledore had told him. Harry had probably lost most of his memories forever, control over his magic, and his sanity. And Harry did something that Sirius had never seen him do.

Harry cried.

It wasn't a breakdown. He didn't turn into a gibbering mess. His features locked into a determined expression as clear drops of liquid escaped form the corners of his eyes. He just looked so tired, but he couldn't go back to his sleep now, knowing what it was.

"So I'm trapped now? I can't control my magic and I'm not the same bloody person anymore?" he whispered. There was no anger behind it despite the curse.

"No," Sirius said quietly. "Dumbledore said that there was a way to get control over your magic, but it won't be easy. In fact, if you don't succeed, you're magic will permanently suck you back into that dream world. But if you don't try, I can still come and see you and you'll be out of the dream world. If you try and fail, that's the end. You're going to have to choose."

"Well of course I'm going to try," he almost instantly responded, surprising Sirius. "This is my life, my mind, and my bloody magic. It belongs to _**me**_. I want control and that starts now. What do I have to do?"

Surprised and wondering if this was going to be part of Harry's new personality, he said, "You need to find something to do and force yourself to focus on it and master it. Think only about that one thing. Put your entire being in to making it your own. There can be no distraction or it won't work. I don't really understand why, but Dumbledore said that's what you have to do. Of course, you're in the Room of Requirement so your options are pretty much limitless."

"I'm guessing Dumbledore had to do this? No, wait, don't tell me. He chose to play chess?"

"What makes you say that?" Sirius replied with a slight chuckle. The boy was right.

Harry just looked at him as if to say "Are you joking?"

"You make a fair point," said a now laughing Sirius. It wasn't that funny, but he really needed it.

"Anything else I should know?" the young wizard asked.

"Um, just that your magic won't like this and probably try to teach you a lesson to get you to stop fighting it. It won't be fun."

"And I'm guessing you and Dumbledore want permission to use some device to watch the process."

Sirius nodded.

"Ok, fine by me. Anything else."

"Actually yes, but this isn't from Dumbledore," the old Marauder grinned slightly. He knelt down on the floor so he was eye level with his godson. "I want to make a deal with you. When you win, I'll teach you how to be an animagus and...if you want...well.." he trailed off, obviously nervous, which was odd for the infamous Sirius Black.

"Just spit it out," Harry encouraged him, genuinely curious.

Wringing his hand together, he spit out, "Iwanttoadoptyou."

Surprised and praying he had heard that right, Harry said, "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Yes, I want to adopt you," he said, now pacing. "I know I've been a bloody awful godfather and I could never replace James and I'm always getting in to trouble, but if you want I could take a crack at being a dad. I do love you Harry." By this point he was looking expectantly at Harry who was in mild shock and said nothing.

Misinterpreting his silence, Sirius looked devastated. "Well, I guess not. Not that I blame I've never real-OOF!"

He was silenced by a punch to the gut from his godson.

"Shut up you moron, of course I want to. Deal accepted. Now get out of here so I can fulfill my part of the bargain."

Smiling broadly, Sirius started to walk towards the door only to be stopped by a voice behind him.

"I do love you too, Sirius. Why else do you think I busted you of Azkaban twice?"

**So that's chapter two. This is still kinda short for my goals, but I'm still getting back into the swing of things and this was a good stopping point for me. As you can probably guess, the new Harry will probably be a lot more...brash than the old Harry. I realise that not everything is clear right now. That's the way I want it. It might be another chapter or two before all the dots are connected. Please Read and Review!**


	3. Waiting

**Here's the next chapter, folks. Hope you enjoy it. Oh! And if any of you readers are poets or lyricists and would like to write something that would end up in this story, send me a pm. I need at least one to be "written" by Wednesday and a poet I am not. Thanks, read and review!**

Waiting

A very tired and emotional Sirius Black emerged from the Room of Requirement with absolutely no idea of what he was supposed to be doing at the moment.

"What are you supposed to do when you're alone in a castle with a barmy old man, waiting for your godson to solve his own problems?" he asked no one in particular.

"In my experience," chimed a kindly old voice, "a bottle of firewhiskey seems to be of enormous help."

Turning around, Sirius saw the unusual sight of headmaster Albus Dumbledore in a large chair with a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand and no glass in sight.

"I think this old dog might just take you up on that offer. Care for a drinking partner?"

"Please," the old man said with a smile and conjuring another chair next to his own. "Would you like a glass or.."

"The bottle will be fine, thanks," Sirius said. He accepted the bottle and took a long swig. "You, know," he said while wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "if this is the kind of advice you give students nowadays, I might just be tempted to re-enroll."

"I don't know if these halls would still be standing from another term of Sirius Black, the infamous Marauder, though it would be interesting," he rejoined, chuckling. "However, we do have some things to discuss, such as your and Harry's return to society."

Sirius almost choked on his sip of firewhiskey. "Maybe Fudge is right. You _are _out of your mind. In case you forgot, Harry and I are escapees from Azkaban. The ministry is none too fond of us at the moment."

"Well, I expect our dear minister to issue a pardon of some sort in the near future. Since you two have been away, Voldemort has been persistently active and Cornelius has been equally persistent in denying it. The result is that everything that Voldemort does is blamed on the failures of the Ministry instead of Tom. He cannot afford to have another blunder as large as this and-"

"And since he knows we're innocent, it will probably help him to issue us a pardon and save himself the embarrassment and cost of a failing manhunt. Merlin bless politics!"

Watching bemusedly as Sirius practically bounced in his chair, Dumbledore tried to reign him back in.

"Quite, though I do not recall you voicing those sentiments two years ago."

That stopped the old convict dead in his tracks.

"Well, that's not quite the same thing, but point well taken," he said, taking his seat again.

"It is a sad fact that more battles are won by the mistakes of an opponent than by any particular brilliance of oneself. Enjoy it until the pendulum swings the other way. Not to put a damper on the mood, but now that you are free, what is it that you intend to do?"

He paused for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know, I haven't really thought about it too much. I...think I'll follow Harry's lead. Merlin knows I'm not leaving him again and he's earned the right to make his own choices."

"A good answer, my friend. However, I am also concerned about what his "lead" might be now that his sanity is in serious doubt. The possibilities for someone that powerful are...disturbing," he trailed off, absentmindedly stroking his beard.

"You turned out all right. You practically run the "good side" of the magical world. What's the worry?"

"Sirius, while Harry's circumstances parallel my own to an extent, they are by no means identical. My own experience was centered around myself failing the world. I have spent a life time trying to make up for that...Sirius, the world failed Harry and I am terrified that the pattern will hold true. Obviously, the world will not try or succeed in making amends, but Harry might try to make it so."

"Dumbledore," Sirius said quietly, "Our world has hurt my godson more than anyone can imagine and yet, until this point, Harry has never, not once, shown any desire for revenge. Maybe it will be the same, but there is something else to consider also."

He stopped, took a long drink from his bottle and looked his old professor straight in the eyes.

"If Harry wants to make the world pay, what right do we have to stop him?"

-Room of Requirement-

"All right, so...focus on something...but what?"

Harry was pacing back and forth in the now empty room. He had gotten rid of the Godric's Hollow replica so that he wouldn't be tempted to go back into the...dream? Illusion? He wasn't really sure, but whatever it was, he wasn't going back. Sirius had said that he needed to focus on something, but thinking one specific thing or even deciding what it should be was difficult. Well, it would probably have to be difficult and complicated, and preferably something he could easily use in the real world, but what?

Maybe something that made sound? Silence was unbearable after two years of it.

"Well there's an idea..."

-Outside-

Still in their chairs outside of the room, Dumbledore and Sirius were sound asleep in there chairs. Sirius was cradling a near empty bottle of alcohol.

Until they were forced awake by loud noise coming out of the mirror Dumbledore had charmed to watch Harry.

"Albus..." Sirius muttered, still groggy, "Is that...supposed to be music?"

-Room of Requirement-

"Gah! There has to be a special circle of Hell for the man who wrote 'Chopsticks!'" Harry yelled as he banged on the piano that the Room had given him. Music had seemed like a good idea, but this piano was something else. Nothing else for it though. Back to work.

-Three Weeks Later (Outside)-

"You know, Sirius," Dumbledore asked. "Monitoring Harry has become much more pleasant now that he has some skill with the instrument. I rather like some of these pieces, though I am afraid that I am not familiar with this one."

"That," replied a thoroughly bored Sirius, "Is because he wrote it himself. Didn't you notice all the scribbling he's been doing for the past few days?"

"He composed this himself?" asked the headmaster, more as a thought than an actual question. "Sirius, he has only been playing the piano for three weeks. Even considering the fact that his magic is forcing to stay awake for the entire time, that is not nearly enough time for him to have reached his current level of mastery. He must be using the Room of Requirement to slow down time for him."

"Is-is that even possible?"

"Sirius, in my extremely long and comprehensive experience, when dealing with magic, anything is possible. When your godson is involved, doubly so."

-Room of Requirement-

Time was practically meaningless to Harry as he worked furiously on his music. All thought of the future, the past or anything but his music had been violently pushed away. Music was everything at this moment. It wasn't just the sounds he was making or writing. His magic was fighting him for dominance. Any break in his concentration allowed his powers to attack him, causing agonizing pain, both physical and emotional, dredging up fragments of memories to punish or tempt him.

Before his eyes, he could see phantoms of his parents and Sirius and all of his friends, having fun and happiness that would never be. Half formed whispers and thoughts floated through his mind, promising to make them real for him in his mind if he would just surrender control of his life to his magic which would always protect him. It took everything he had to fight it off, to convince himself that reality was worth it; that Sirius was waiting for him when he had won and life would be different now.

Then other images would appear. He saw horrible things happen to people he both new and had never seen before. A terrifying combination of memory and illusion attempted to blur the lines of reality to distract him. Friends were murdered. Blood was everywhere. Rape, fire, destruction, hatred and every conceivable evil was portrayed to the finest detail, promising that when he finally gave in, he would be punished with this false reality for the rest of his days.

That's why he was working on his songs. Just playing music wasn't enough. The attacks were getting stronger. He needed a way to fight the different battles before him. He needed one to anchor him to reality despite the promise of joy and happiness found in lies, and he needed one to stand strong against the threats.

So he wrote the music. Putting all of his mind and thoughts behind each, slowly separating the magic into the two kinds. But it was...doing something to him. His magic was part of him. Nothing would change that. To separate Light and Darkness would have consequences.

Sweat pouring down his face and over the bags under his eyes, he pounded away on the piano, trying desperately to turn of the voices, sounds, smells and images, but it wasn't enough.

"Damn, it! Work! WHY CAN'T I WIN!"

His magic was swirling around him so violently that anyone else would have been blown away. He fought, trying to use his focus and song to keep control of his mind...

But it wasn't working.

"It's not enough," he said, almost breathlessly, "It's not enough! The damned piano is not enough. I need...more...more sound, more things...more instruments...but...I need...MORE...TIME!"

With an earth shattering BANG, his magic was pushed back, fighting the ancient enchantments of the Room of Requirement to give the boy his wish. He would have his time.

-Outside-

**BANG!**

"Dumbledore! Get over here **now!"**

The miniature sitting room that the two had been using was in complete disarray. Papers and books were scattered about. The chairs were overturned and black shards of glass were everywhere. Sirius had been thrown violently across the room, slamming into the stone wall behind him when he called out. The old man practically ran to investigate the noise and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Albus," Sirius said desperately as he watched the old man pick a small, black piece of what used to be the mirror monitoring Harry. "Albus, what's going on? What happened?"

"Over-saturated with magic," he muttered as he turned the piece over in his hand. "Something caused an enormous amount of magic to go through my mirror. I think...that Harry is beyond our help now, even if we could see him."

"That's definitely _not_ what I wanted to hear."

-Two Months Later (Inside)-

Harry Potter, exhausted, close to fainting from fatigue despite magical assistance, he worked furiously, finishing off the final part of his sonata. Looking around the room, he saw all of the instruments he had forced himself to master. Violin, piano, trumpet, clarinet, any instrument he could think of had been provided and mastered. He had no idea how long it had taken him, but in the back of his mind he had a small indication of how much time it should take to master just one instrument let alone a full orchestra, but there was no real way to judge it. Not even his body could be an indicator. The magic had him in stasis. He was the same malnourished child who had been languishing in prison before coming here. In the real world, he would certainly not have been able to stand for too long.

In this room he had learned music. He played so long and furiously to drown out the mental barrages his magic sent against him. He worked at that so long that the magic and images ceased to be what they were before. By slaving away at music, his mind began to interpret the sensations as music itself. Every element a different sound, note, chord, instrument. His piano wasn't enough so he moved on, hoping to be able to capture the sounds, somehow match them with _his _music, _his _will. And now, finally, he had done it. Every nuance of his powers, the emotional manipulation, the feel of it, its very essence had been put on paper.

In two songs.

Somehow, his music and magic had polarized. Black and White. Day and Night. Joy and sorrow.

Both, at the same time his magic, but completely different.

It was time to play them both. Harry picked up a violin, his new favorite instrument, and began to play softly. Soon, the sound of that violin was accompanied by other violins, other instruments, rising into the air and playing, seemingly by themselves. The music was so perfectly aligned with his magic that his will easily forced it to do what he wanted: play his instruments as with his own fingers. In that instant he could feel himself playing each one. The strain of his fingers on the violin, the use of breath on his clarinet, he was playing them all. As the music grew louder, and the song incorporated all the parts the subjugation of his magic was finalized. Harry was master.

But a keen ear could pick out that two songs were being played in harmony. The two songs were fighting each other for dominance. The resulting sounds of that struggle provided a beauty, power and haunting quality to the piece that was otherwise unachievable.

The point was, Harry was ready to come out.


End file.
